Ideal Lover

It was dim, with a mixture of men's perfume and red wine, and it was lewd and lustful. The heavy and luxurious curtains blocked the refreshing morning, and only a ray of innocent peeping light came in through the gap of the floor-length curtains in the spacious and luxurious room.

The person on the bed, sunken in the soft quilt and brocade pillow, was still sleeping. His face could not be seen in the dim light. Clothes were scattered beside the bed. The air was filled with the lust of morning dew and sun-dried desire. Everything at this moment seemed to reveal vanity and emptiness. Such uncleanness almost drowned people.

There is only one exception.

sound.

The sound of running water in the bathroom matched the scene at the moment, revealing its dull laziness, but a hint of whistle floated out in between.

It is cheerful, joyful, and unrestrained, like a nightingale that reverses day and night, tirelessly romantic, and its melodious voice is full of the innocence and cruelty of a child's nursery rhymes.

Suddenly the whistle stopped, and the sound of the bathroom door opening seemed very empty in the silence. Steam followed his footsteps out, kissing his skin reluctantly.

The nightingale flew out from the thorn bush and preened his wet feathers.

Ah, it's too dark in here. His voice was like an actor in an opera house, with ups and downs and the romantic exaggeration of a troubadour.

The man walked to the window and stepped on the tail of the light, then he drew open the curtains with a bang. Large patches of brilliance poured in, dissipating the spring atmosphere in the room.

When the ray of light caught sight of his face, its ears immediately turned red, and it pulled its furry tail to break free from under his feet and ran away.

The sunshine in France is romantic.

The young man in the sunshine was only wearing a bath towel, revealing his beautiful naked upper body. He poured himself a glass of red wine from the small table next to him. His eyebrows were slightly narrowed in the sunshine, looking beautiful and proud, and he held his head high on the branch as if singing in the morning light.

The nightingale who sacrificed love in Oscar Wilde's fairy tale died, but Sanye lived.

If the word "affected" is understood as exaggerated and deliberate, then Sangye is definitely not an artificial person. His exaggeration and deliberateness are purely natural, but in the eyes of others he probably looks like a madman.

There was a cane next to the small table, the green stone inlay of which contrasted beautifully with the emerald ring on his hand. As the wine glass swayed, a trace of annoyance suddenly appeared on Sang Ye's face. He tapped the floor lightly with his cane twice, his tone light and jumping: It's over, I forgot one thing.

The lover on the bed woke up with a groan under the temptation of sunlight and sound. The blond and blue-eyed young man rubbed his eyes and raised his eyelids to seducing her silently: What did you forget?

Sang Ye smiled at him. He had always been romantic as a lover, with both frivolous interest and addictive tenderness combined in him. He was born with the pearl from Aphrodite's oyster between his lips and teeth. His love words were sweet and graceful, and whenever he spoke them to anyone, it sounded like he was promising eternity.

Sangye tapped his lover's butt under the quilt with his cane: It's nothing important, won't you take a nap?

The little lover acted coquettishly with some dissatisfaction: The sunlight is too dazzling, how can I sleep?

Sorry, baby, Sang Ye's eyes curved and his tone became cheerful again, I was thinking about you just now, so I opened the window.

The lover laughed twice without understanding, crawled naked to the end of the bed to ask for a hug, and reached out to untie the towel around his waist, but was grabbed by Sang Ye. There was a sense of strength in his hands, which made the young man suddenly nervous for a moment, and he looked up and saw a hint of frivolous danger in his eyes.

However, all this lasted only a moment, and soon Sang Ye's grip loosened and he held his face: Your eyes are incomparable to any gems. When I see the sunlight, I think of your golden hair, which is so beautiful.

The video call prompt sounded, and the blue light screen on the wall-mounted TV lit up. Red dots flashed, hiding the danger in his eyes. Sangye whispered to him: What a pity, don't be too anxious.

Sang Ye rubbed and kneaded his lover's wrist between his fingers, rubbing and connecting them like tangled spider silk, pulling his hand to his waist, and slowly turned around to open the video conference.

It is really indecent. He is even worse than the king in "The Emperor's New Clothes". That king is stupid and shameless.

When the video was connected, the yellow-skinned middle-aged man on the other side looked at him half naked and was speechless for a long time. Finally, he angrily cursed him: "Beast! Put on your clothes!"

It is in Chinese.

Sang Ye ignored him completely, playing with the cane in his hand smoothly, standing like a handsome gentleman, smiling frivolously and wantonly, and asked him back in the same words, with just one sentence: Why?

He took his lover's hand from behind and brought it to his lips and kissed the back of his hand, glancing at the screen provocatively. The old man in the video was so angry that his hair was about to explode. He covered his chest and almost couldn't breathe. He pointed at Sang Ye for a long time, and finally his face turned pale and he sighed heavily.

A woman's slender hand reached out to the old man, stroked his back, and said to Sang Ye: Can't you two just talk properly?

Sang Ye was playing with his lover's fingers absentmindedly. The atmosphere was weird. He suddenly laughed softly: Aunt Bai, since you can't give birth to a younger brother for me, your life as a nanny must not be very satisfactory, right?

The woman's face on the other end of the video changed instantly, and the old man raised his eyebrows and was about to get angry again, but Sang Ye smiled again, and his laughter was full of provocation, contempt and ridicule. He raised his eyebrows maliciously, artificially and exaggeratedly, and knocked the ground with his cane, the sound was dull, and every word was heart-wrenching: What a pity, there will be no descendants, and no one to inherit the family property, and you won't be willing to accept it, right?

The old man's lips on the other end of the video were trembling, Aunt Bai was speechless, and Sang Ye smiled as if nothing had happened.

People who are passionate are also the most ruthless. They can say romantic words, but they also know what kind of words can become a sharp knife that cuts the heart.

The old man on the other end of the video finally forced out his rebellious son, and no longer mentioned what he had been saying for some time, that he wanted his son to return to the country to inherit the family business. However, just before he turned off the video, Sang Ye smiled and said to him like an old friend: I miss you too, and I will go back in a while, my dear father, you must miss me too.

The last syllable was lost in the black screen and the old man's stunned and nervous expression.

Sangye looked at his own vague outline on the black screen and the smile on the corner of his mouth fell down.

The foreign youth behind him didn't understand Chinese, but he knew that the atmosphere was not good at the moment. He tried to pull his hand back many times, but was held by Sangye and his wrist was a little red.

Sang Ye looked down at the red marks on his white skin, and his usual charming smile returned to his face. The gloominess just now seemed to be just an illusion in the black screen.

Sang Ye kissed his wrist, licked the marks left by fingerprints with the tip of his tongue, and said to him gently: I'm sorry, did I hurt you?

Lovers tasted poison from his gentleness and were afraid to approach him, but the scent of the poison was too charming. Sang Ye's eyes curved and became innocent and romantic. She kissed his hand and his cheek, giving people the illusion of doting.

After untying the bath towel, his lover obediently dressed him in a shirt, a suit, custom-made leather shoes with exquisite patterns, and finally a tie.

Sangye took off the ring from her hand and placed it in his palm, and her lover trembled all over.

Your eyes are more beautiful than this one, Sang Ye rubbed the emerald in his palm and said, "Keep it."

He had many lovers, but he only dated one at a time and never changed his mind. However, lovers were just lovers to him, not lovers, not boyfriends, and certainly not lifelong choices.

The young man knew too much about this kind of thing, and he obviously understood the meaning of the ring that Sang Ye gave him. His eyes suddenly turned red, and he kept asking Sang Ye: It's not what I thought, right? It's not, right? Why, aren't we living well? I love you!

Sang Ye pinched his chin and kissed his beautiful eyes, then kissed the top of his head. The sunlight came in, and he stood in the shadow. Sang Ye smiled and said goodbye to his lover: Both gems and sunlight are beautiful, but I don’t like gems, and I love sunlight even less.

The flashy sports car cut through the splendor of Montpellier and the various styles of the southern French city, passing through the Place de la Porte. The equestrian statue of Louis XIV is still proud, and the gilded Arc de Triomphe used to commemorate him is no longer ostentatious under the sedimentation of history, and has become moderate and peaceful over a long period of time.

The sports car passed by it without any expression. The lion statue on the wall, which was worn rough by time, watched him pass by and seemed to let out a faint sigh. It was quiet near the St. Pierre Cathedral. In the silence, one could seem to hear the singing of the choir, which had been lingering in the air for who knows how many years.

Going forward through the area, he saw small supermarkets and pedestrian streets. The aroma of crepes wafted from the local restaurants, but it quickly dissipated as he drove relentlessly.

The bell rang, scaring away the pigeons in the nearby park. Sangye finally stopped and bought a bunch of pure white lilies from the flower shop next door. The old woman selling flowers smiled at him, and Sangye smiled back, with much more sincerity than he had in front of his father and his lover.

The cemetery is very quiet. Tombstones record those who have left. Most of them did not do anything great and could not influence history. They left quietly in history and may be lost in the long time and become dust that no one will remember.

Sangye stood there for a long time and placed the flowers next to a small tombstone.

The wildness on his face disappeared completely. Without saying a word, he wiped her tombstone with a handkerchief and pinched off the fine dust.

Love is so absurd. Sang Ye squatted down and sat on the stone steps beside him. Below him was the gray and green wind. It was stupid and useless. Just like you, you can only stay here in the end, unable to even sleep in the same bed with me, although that is meaningless.

It's retribution. That woman didn't even leave him a child. She was old and wanted me to go back. In this case, of course I can't leave anything to a nanny. Mom, don't you think I'm right? Sang Ye paused for a moment. I know you don't like to hear this. You love him and miss him. You even choose a cemetery in the direction of your hometown. You are too weak.

Sang Ye sat for a while and then stood up. The momentary dullness disappeared completely with the smile on his face again, and his tone became light again: Love is useless, life should be lived happily, otherwise how can you die quickly?

Sang Ye patted his body and touched his mother's tombstone, as if he had often hugged him and ruffled his hair when she was still alive. Sang Ye said to his mother: I don't want any ties, that kind of thing is not as loyal as money and dogs.

But little creatures like dogs are so innocent and loyal that they make people feel ashamed of themselves, so I don’t